Film Night at Molly's
by cactusnell
Summary: Sherlock shows up unexpectedly at Molly's flat just as she prepares to watch a film version of a notorious book. Can she take it? Sherlolly


The evening was shaping up to be a good one. Dr. Molly Hooper planned to spend it curled up with a good film. Well, maybe not a good film, but certainly an interesting one. The book had been a real sensation, commonly referred to as "mummy porn" in the media, and had been a huge best-seller. Molly was convinced that every female over the age of sixteen, and a large number of those under the age of consent, had, in fact, read the tome, but that a significantly smaller number would admit to doing so. Just as she was sure that its themes of consensual bondage and submission had spurred sales of various accoutrements of the practice at every sex shop in Britain! A supposedly much tamer version of the book had been made into into a wildly successful film, but Molly had resisted the urge to run to the theater, instead opting to wait for the DVD release. And now she planned to enjoy it in the privacy of her home, with her finger hovering over the rewind button.

The credits were still rolling, however, when Sherlock Holmes, uninvited as usual, made his appearance. Immediately noticing the opening sequence flit across the screen, he enquired, "What are we watching tonight, Molly? I've brought popcorn."

Molly immediately tried to hide her slight disappointment, it being slight because, no matter how much she would have liked to watch the film, she could never be anything but happy in the presence of Sherlock Holmes. Mostly. Sometimes. "Anything you want, Sherlock. Do you have anything in particular in mind?"

"I saw the credits rolling, Molly, so it is obvious that you have already chosen a motion picture diversion for the evening. Just give me a moment to put this in the microwave, and I shall join you." Sherlock spoke confidently. He had grown quite accustomed to these evenings spent with his pathologist, sharing a film, or telly. Sometimes Molly cooked, sometimes he brought takeaway, and they ate in front of the telly. Sherlock had become a bit more sociable since his return from the dead, and his near-death experience and four minute exile had only reinforced his newly found appreciation of his friends, Molly especially. He had come to think of her flat as home, even more so than Baker Street, although he was loathe to admit it, and this was not because of the cluttered ambience or the overly cuddly cat, but Molly herself.

"You won't like this picture, Sherlock. It's more of a woman's film."

"Really? That's hardly your usual choice, Dr. Hooper. Not scifi? No sharks flying through tornados?"

"No, not this one. Would you like to see one of those?"

"Really, Molly, I have sat with you through Shirley MacClaine mourning the death of her daughter and Bette Middler screeching about about wind under her feathered appendages. I do not think that one more of you 'woman's films' would kill me. Do you have your tissues at the ready?"

"It's not that kind of a film, Sherlock! No death, no suffering. Well, maybe some suffering. But strictly voluntary…" Molly noticed that the detective had a confused look on his face as he reached for the DVD case on the table in front of her couch.

The penny dropped as he read the DVD case. "Interesting, Dr. Hooper. I know you have read the book, since I have noticed the rather dog-eared copy on your bed stand, but I did not realize you would require visual reinforcement." Sherlock sent one of his signature smirks in her direction. "Nevertheless, it is your home, your choice."

"Sherlock, if you think for one moment that I am going to subject myself to your running commentary…"

Sherlock managed to look shocked. "I didn't realize my critiques affected your viewing enjoyment, Molly. I promise to refrain from comment for the duration."

"Sherlock, surely you would feel uncomfortable…"

"Why, Dr. Hooper? We are both adults. This film did rather well at the box office, I have been informed…"

"Informed by whom, Sherlock?"

"John, of course. It seems he was forced to accompany his wife to the theater on at least two occasions, possibly more, but two was all he would admit to. I hadn't realized that the DVD had been released already, but that does account for his absence from Baker Street for the last few days, and Mary's overly cheery voice when she answered my call."

"Sherlock, I…"

"Not to worry, Molly. I shall be as quiet as the grave. You shall hear no snickers emanating from my direction. I must admit to being as curious as you…"

"No, Sherlock…"

"Yes, Molly. Now start the film while I make the popcorn!"

Within a few moments the detective had joined the pathologist on the couch, bowl of popcorn in hand, and, true to his word, refrained from comment for the entire duration, except for a barely audible moan at one particularly arousing sequence. Never in her wildest imagination could she have pictured herself sharing her couch and watching soft-core porn with the unrequited love of her life. Molly could actually feel the flush spreading up her neck as she watched, and she did at one point notice that Sherlock had the large bowl of popcorn strategically positioned on his lap. When the film ended, Molly heaved a heavy sigh of relief and Sherlock excused himself to use the loo. Not as bad as she thought it would be!

After some time the small woman, noticing that the detective was taking longer than usual in the loo, rose from her chair to empty the bowl of orphan corn kernels , and refresh her glass of wine. As she stood at her kitchen sink, smiling to herself and lost in mental review of a certain scene from the film, she was surprised to find the detective standing directly behind her.

"Molly, there's something I would like to discuss with you." Sherlock spoke slowly, and quite seriously as Molly moved away from the sink and took a seat at the kitchen table, glass of wine in front of her. "Do you still consider me attractive?"

"That's rather a loaded question, Sherlock. Like, 'when did you stop beating your wife, Mr. Jones?' It implies that there was a time when I considered you attractive."

"Of course there was, Dr. Hooper. The signs were all there. The stammering, the dilation of the eyes, increase in pulse...Sometimes I miss them...well, maybe not the stammering. That was rather tedious…"

"Sherlock, is there a point to any of this?" Molly rose from her seat in search the wine bottle, as this may be shaping up to be more than a one-glass conversation.

"Well, it has occurred to me that we are both unattached, healthy adults. You have been without a serious relationship, and I therefore assume, a sexual outlet, since you dumped Tim…"

"Tom," Molly corrected him, taking a healthy swig of her wine as she did so.

"Meatdagger! Whatever!" Sherlock could still barely tolerate the thought of the near doppelganger of himself who had come so close to snatching Molly from under his patrician nose. "In any case, I must assume that your level of frustration has been increasing…"

"Sherlock, my level of frustration is no concern of yours!"

"As a friend, I think it is, Molly. I am only concerned for your health, physical, mental, and emotional…"

"My physical health is fine, Sherlock. And my mental and emotional health would do a lot better without your presence!"

"You don't mean that, Molly. That's only your frustration talking." The detective spoke in a kindly tone, simply oozing concern. "In addition, I have found myself becoming inordinately bored of late. No interesting cases, no live-in distractions, which John provided before he moved out to marry and procreate. You know that I have always found you attractive, Molly…"

"I know no such thing, you git!", Molly glared at him as she spoke. "You said my breasts were too small. My lips too thin…"

"Your breasts are a bit on the small side, you must admit. But they are certainly sufficient to their purpose. Your lips are thin, in fact, but once again that was merely an observation, not a comment on their quality. There is a particular shade of lipstick you wear, in particular, that makes them especially attractive." Sherlock seemed to lose his train of thought, and roused himself a bit.

"You constantly make disparaging comments about my height, Sherlock…"

"I don't recall…"

"You called me your 'pygmy pathologist'!"

Sherlock smiled at the recollection. "Ah, yes, I remember now. That was quite alliterative, wasn't it? And, truth be told, I only find your height inconvenient in regard to certain activities."

"Such as?"

"Snogging. Given our height differential, extended snogging could lead to severe problems in my lower lumbar region. I am no longer as young as I used to be, and may not be as flexible. However, might I suggest that such a problem would be greatly alleviated if you were to assume a supine position, and I a relatively horizontal one?"

The pathologist almost choked on her wine. "Let me get this straight. Are you suggesting we stretch out on the couch and snog each other senseless?"

"Not quite, although you are on the right track, Dr. Hooper. I feel the bed would be much more comfortable, being as its length could more easily accommodate my longer frame. And the horizontal position could work as well for shagging as snogging, don't you agree? Although we could reverse the the identity of the person assuming the supine position, depending on your preferences…"

"Sherlock!"

"I assure you that I am quite flexible in this matter, and am more than willing to experiment…"

"Sherlock!"

"Woman, will you stop shouting my name. Save that for later!" Sherlock smiled at the stunned woman and resumed speaking in a lower, and more seductive voice. "So, in the interest of alleviating your frustration and my boredom, would you be willing..."

"You make an excellent case, Mr. Holmes…"

"I always do, Dr. Hooper," he spoke as he rose from the chair and pulled Molly to her feet, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close for a rather extended snog, back pain be damned. And as they finally broke for air to make their way toward the bedroom, both knew, without a doubt, that their days of frustration and boredom were now things of the past. And that the film in question, while it may never win an award of any kind, would always top any Hooper-Holmes Top Ten list!


End file.
